Speed Drinking
Boiler Room Bar Set into the basement levels of a building under renovation, the Boiler Room Bar is the perfect place to go when you want to be able to speak freely without being watched. The spacious area centers around a massive ventilation and temperature control system in a deep pit, that hooks into the rest of the building as well as controling its internal transformations - widening doors, opening windows and expanding walkpaths. Its still receiving power, lights beneath its dull bronze surface blowing brilliant red from internal heat. The pit area has been set up as a dance floor with tables and chairs near the wall. Ladders and lifts from the floor lead up to an upper balcony around the pit (also with tables and chairs) as well as access platforms higher up. In front of the "boiler" a bar and performance stage has been set up. The bar is horseshoe-shaped with stools for all sizes; the edges of the bartop glow neon purple while the surface is black. The performance stage has light-up panels on the floor and the perfect space for a DJ to work their musical magic. The whole room is mostly flat, dull gray panels, but it's been decorated with black, purple and magenta graffiti artwork. Blast Off would not like to admit he knows this, but... the impulse to correct Swoop is just too strong to resist. He holds his glass on the table and mutters, "...opera. It's Phantom of the Opera." He shakes his head. "I was stuck on Earth for a very long time, okay? I had no choice but to ..occassionally...*rarely* take a look at such things." Then he takes another long drink. "Most of human "opera" I found to be... incomprehesible. However, " He tilts his head thoughtfully, "That "Les Miserables" musical was an uplifting story. I did enjoy that one." Then he shudders. "That "Cats" musical, though... brings back bad memeories." (Ha ha.) And it's true, he had a recent bad experience with a cat... vile creatures as far as he's concerned. Of course, that goes for most organics anyway. Swoop bahs. "Swoop think them Cats good." He pauses. "Phantom of Oprah. Why Oprah have them Phantoms? Maybe her need call Ghostbusters." He scratches his head again, trying to get the thoughts to connect.... and they seem to, but he only just nods slowly. "Swoop not know Los Miserables, though." The tables and chairs in the area begin to shake at a small rate, kinda like that scene in Jurassic Park with the water.. only more frequently. As it builds up, they are jittering up and down like an alcoholic coming off of detox. Even one of the ladders to the above area is knocked over, before a blue flash enters the room. Before anyone realizes it, Blurr is standing next to Swoop.. a drink in his hand, his optics scanning the room. "So Swoop we were supposed to go on that hunt for some guy was his name Sterner I can't remember all I know is you tried to lose me in what I'm assuming was some sort of test to prove I could be your partner and by finding you I think you know that nobody is more suited to the job nobody nobody nobody!!" After rambling off, the cobalt speedster gives Blast Off an odd scowl half an astro-click long, before giving the Dinobot his full attention again. "So when does the hunting begin??" Blast Off brings a hand up to his faceplate in a long-suffering *siiiiigh*. He's surrounded by idiots. No matter where he goes, he is the lone civilized mech... always. It's a heavy burden to bear, truly. *sigh* again. But someone must carry it, right? Not everyone can be as magnificent as he, after all. He lowers his hand to clasp his drink again. "Les Miserables is, among other things, the story of an oppressed people who start a rebellion in a corrupt world." Something the former Renegade Decepticon can identify with. "They don't get the ...support they needed in time- not being the best *planners*... and fail. Miserably. And being miserable is a recurring theme for pretty much /everyone in the story/. And yet... they perservere anyway. Or die trying." Then, suddenly... Blurr is there. The Combaticon looks up, then freezes, staring at the racer. He has a long history with the Autobot, though they did manage to finish certain...unfinished business the last time they met. Enough that Blast Off hasn't felt compelled to do his OWN hunting for the Autobot. Hmm. Looks like Blurr has finally returned, then. The Combaticon just stares at him, then gives a small nod of his head. "Blurr. I haven't seen you in quite awhile." After that, he takes a sip of his wine, and watches. Hunt? What "hunt"? Swoop blinks at Blurr. Just...blinks. He then shakes his head slowly, taking a moment to sip his drink... "Swoop done," he finally adds. "Hunt over." He takes another long drink and sets the empty cup to the side. "But, Swoop think can hunt other things, too. Maybe them Decepticons in Tarn?" But, no 'hunt' breaks out right then and there. Instead, he orders himself up another (nonalcoholic) drink. "Swoop think silly them not be able to fight alone. Dinobots good fighters, not need plan much. Find them enemies, and fight until them not working anymore. What more plan need?" "How can the hunt be over before we've even began that doesn't make any sense did you go off and find him all on your own because that would be awfully spiteful of you Swoop!" Blurr lets out at the Dinobot, visibly hurt. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he is kicking himself for loading Swoop up into the shuttle at the Battle of Autobot City. Smiling, the cobalt speedster turns to face Blast Off properly. "Oh I've been around enough for notice well maybe not someone like you with slower than average sensors I mean come on if you had any you'd realize how snobbish you look with that ener-wine the only people who drink that are critics and unaffiliateds." Swoop says, "Swoop not think is good to talk in front of him Decepticon." Blurr says, "So we shouldn't talk at all do you want to communicate through hand gestures or can you read lips or should we stick to the channel to speak with eachother or maybe if you write a note and pass it to me I can read it and write you one back?" Swoop says, "Nnng...not talk hunting in front of him Decepticon." Blast Off tenses at the mention of hunting Decepticons in Tarn (given that, at the moment, that means HIM)... but the Autobots make no moves. So the shuttle responds, "Well, /obviously/. These were pathetic fleshlings... fragile and mostly feeble-minded. SOME planning is a good thing... if it had been Onslaught, he would have come up with a brilliant plan. THEN had his soldiers fight until their enemies were no longer functional. Far better than simply 8smashing* one's way through things." He sniffs and resumes sipping his wine. Then stops and stares at Blurr again. There's an indignant huff. "....I beg your PARDON?! Enerwine is the drink of civilized individuals. Critic? Well... of COURSE I'm a critic. I keep a critical optic on everything... and there is much to be critical OF... especially here in Tarn." He takes another sip of wine, then adds, "Besides, I'd rather be a critic than some empty-headed sportsmech *racer*." "Just like you always criticizing everyone else because you don't have the sterner stuff to do what others do when are you gonna learn Blast Off that you aren't feeling pity but jealously??" Blurr rasps off, managing to take seven sips from his drink during that sentence.. well, butchering of a sentence at least. As Swoop struts out, Blurr gives an enthusistic wave after him. Blast Off turns to watch Swoop go... well, good...one down, now one to go. If only neither one had been here in the first place, the Combaticon could have had a nice, quiet, *enjoyable* evening. Though even Swoop's departure isn't quiet... and Blast Off is tempted to just turn off his audials, but that's probably unwise when surrounded by enemies. And as annoying as Blurr is, he's one of the few Autobots who can match Blast Off's agility... so it's wise to remain wary. So sadly... he has to listen to Blurr speak. And debate shutting his audios off anyway. "...Jealous?" He bristles, and denies everything. "Jealous?! Jealous of WHAT? Of other people's ineptitude and trivial pursuits and ham-fisted mangling of all that is cultured and classy and intelligent?!" He hufffs again, taking a large drink. "As if. I am only "jealous" when someone gets to leave for a long space flight and I'm still stuck down HERE among the riffraff!" "I think your overreaction right there proved your jealousy of other's ability to do that which you can and have not name racing for instance you are obviously jealous of my gifts because yours are found sorely lacking." Blurr smiles, getting a rise out of the Combaticon. Blast Off glares at the racer and points a finger at him. "I already raced you ...and WON." Which, of course, ignores the other time he raced Blurr, and lost, and also ignores the fact that the race he "won" was only a ...kinda-sorta win, but was *just enough* of a win that he will /insist/ he won until his last dying breath... which is funny, given that he doesn't actually breathe. "I'll race you *again* anytime, too. And DEFEAT you again." He leans back and sips more wine, a little faster this time. "Not that I care, though, because racing pales in comparison to the glory of *space flight*... and that's something you can't even *dream* of doing..." He gives a haughty little sniff. "You're just a groundpounder, after all." "You won once on a technicality so don't break your arm servo patting yourself on the back about it because it WON'T happen again and if you're really serious about racing anytime anywhere then why not here and now unless you're chicken-bot because then I'd understand if you wanted to back out!!" Blurr challenges him outright, taking a seat next to Blast Off. "As for spaceflight don't make me laugh anyone can achieve what you think is so glorious by paying three shanix and taking a flight on a space tour hahahahahahahaha did you not think of that?" Blast Off HUFFFS again. "I meant in *shuttle mode*. It's a little hard to race here as a shuttle, don't you think?" He snarks at the racer, before taking a long drink and finishing that glass, too. "UNless of course you don't mind the destruction of this city you're supposed to care about..." Then he stops and blinks at Blurr. "You ...can't be *serious?*" He stares, then starts to slowly shake his head. "No, actually, I think you are... and it shows how little you comprehend. Space flight is something you have to rely on someone else ...or something else... to do FOR you. You are limited, otherwise. Whereas *I*..." He sweeps his arms out wide, "*I* can go anywhere I want. The sky is NOT the limit. The entire Universe is MINE to go where I wish. Anytime. And someone like you will never feel the solar winds pushing you along at breakneck speed, see and feel the wonders of space first hand, listen to the eerie sounds of the cosmos... no, because you are always safely boxed up INSIDE, like some turbo-sardine. Protected- because you can't HANDLE what's out there. I DO pity you. I pity anyone who is unable to know those ...those glories. For they are remarkable, and so few ever can share them with us privileged few spaceflight capable mechs..." Waving the barkeep over, Blurr smiles again and sets his busy hands upon the table. "Are you ready to comprehend this then because we are about to have a race chugging engex if you're up to it and I know you'll try to say you only drink sophisticated ener-wine but this is the middle ground and if you say no I'll have no other recourse then to tell all of your comrades what a stuck up little aftburner you really are with your olefactory sensors stuck so high up in the air you can't tell which way is up or down and to think you actually call yourself a shuttlecraft." Pouring two glasses, Blurr pushes one in front of Blast Off and holds the other in front of him. Blast Off stares at him again. He then blinks and looks up at the racer incredulously. "You... MUST be kidding." But as Blurr goes on, the shuttleformer bristles again, and perhaps it's because he's already had two glasses of wine, but... he finally says, slamming his glass down, "FINE." He reaches to grab hold of the other, full glass given to him and stares at the Autobot. "I'm not afraid of YOU." Then he feels compelled to add, "And my teammates already know how magnificent I am, they wouldn't believe you anyway." And yet he's also compelled to do this thing. Again, the glasses of wine probably don't help. Combat: Blast Off sets his defense level to Fearless. Raising the glass to his mouth, Blurr looks over to Blast Off. "On the count of three then because I'm not sure a Decepticon like you can really count any higher than that and I'd rather get this contest done sooner than later unless you've got something better to do like inspect your image in the mirror to see if it's up to your usual high standards?" Blast Off narrows his optics. "MY guess is that I can count a lot higher than YOU. I doubt you conduct much in the way of astrophysics calculations and space navigation just to do your job every day..." Then he sniffs, "And... no, of course I don't need to check in the mirror!" He did that just before he came to the bar, actually. "Anyway, you're annoying me. Enough delays." He holds the glass up and prepares to drink. Combat: Blurr sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Blurr compares his Agility to Blast Off's Agility: Failure :( Blurr nods along, instead of speaking he aims to empty his glass before Blast Off can finish his!! Blast Off watches Blurr with an eagle optic, and the moment Blurr makes a move, the Combaticon reacts, slamming that drink down. And while Blurr is a challenging opponent for anyone, even him, perhaps it's his long practice drinking that enables him to finish his glass before the speedster. He places the empty glass down with a thunk. "Ha!" Motioning to the waiter, soon two new glasses are poured. "You talk big, but you seem to be falling behind already..." He smirks under his faceplate (which has a hatch that opens, enabling him to drink, just in case you wondered), then raises the glass to drink again. "Still want to race me? Or too petro-chicken?" Combat: Blast Off compares his Agility to Blurr's Agility: Success! Blurr struggles to finish the first drink, getting a case of robo-hiccups halfway through.. it's almost painful to see him hiccuping engex back into his glass, only to attempt to drink it all down again. Having lost the first race, the cobalt speedster who is almost never caught unawares is startled to find the second round begin immediately. "Keep talking the talk but we both know when it comes to walking the walk that I perform at a much higher level than you would ever imagine to compete at because let's face it hanging around with those Combaticon losers has made you soft!!" he informs Blast Off, inbetween sips of the second engex drink.. still battling his robo-hiccups. Losing the second, Blurr focuses his optics and takes grasp of the third drink. "This is it all or nothing are you ready??" Combat: Blurr compares his Agility to Blast Off's Agility: Success! Blast Off scoffs at this. "Hanging around *COMBAT*icons does not make ANYONE *soft*! In fact, we are the front line of the Decepticons... when there's a tough job, when the battle is raging and it must be WON... it is the *Combaticons* who get sent in! We are a precise, military strike unit and..." While the shuttleformer goes on and on about how great his team is, he sort of misses the fact that the third round has already started. He immediately tries drinking to catch up, but... alas, too late. Another huff. "One more.... just to solidify my complete victory. Are YOU ready?" Combat: Blast Off compares his Agility to Blurr's Agility: Success! "Ready are you kidding me I was sparked ready to race you and Decepticons like you to the end of time because nobody can drink a drink as fast as Blurr nobody nobody nobody all you think about is your image well that separates the winners from the losers because I could care less you would rather look good losing than look bad winning well your old pal Blurr here would rather win despite any outward appearances because deep down I am a competitor at core and well you just aren't because you care more about the finer things in life like ener-wine and space cruises while I'm down in the trenches -fighting- for what I believe in what do you believe in huh huh huh?" Blurr rambles out, unbeknowest to him that the fourth and final round had begun. Instead of continuing to belittle Blast Off with more speed-speech.. the racer simply gives him a 'Go stick your attenae up your exhaust port' look. Blast Off slams that drink, too, then *thunks* the glass down with a smug look on his face... well, if only Blurr could see it through the faceplate and optical visors. "Heh. Like I said, I can beat you in a race." He starts swaying a little, having just downed six glasses of engex. There's a blink as he tries refocusing on Blurr. "I'll tell you what I believe in, Blurr." He leans forward, still swaying slightly. "I belive in my *team*...and in MYSELF." Then he straightens up. "And that is all that I need." He proceeds to stand, giving a haughty little nod of the head to the Autobot. "Well... I think I've wasted enough time here. I am sure we'll meet again. And I'm sure I'll *defeat* you again." He throws some shanix to pay for his drinks, then turns to head (a little unsteadily) towards the door. "You dindst beats me in any of the props race causes we weren'ts racing proerpz iffin you cathc my drifts haha get it you knows you cant defeats nothing becauses I didnt tell you abooooot the next rounds of drinks and since you are walking away I takes it as a forfits hahahaha you are throwing a fit again Blast Offs did you knows that why aren't you laughing?" Blurr rambles on and on and on, waving to the barkeep for another round. Instead of delivering the drinks, the barkeep merely waits a moment.. judging his patron of his sobriety. Sure enough, the winner of the Ibex cup passes out on the table mere moments later.. some engex drool seeping out from his open mouth.